


Drowning On My Dreams

by Sailing_ShipWreck



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, At like 3am, Blood, Character Death In Dream, Comfort, Drowning, Fluff, God Bless Stanley Uris, Horror, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Nightmares, POV Richie Tozier, Pennywise (IT) Being an Asshole, Post-Pennywise (IT), Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Angst, Richie Tozier Needs a Hug, Richie Tozier is a Good Friend, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Richie Tozier-centric, Serious Injuries, Trauma, Violence, but that bitch ass clown appears in nightmares, richie loves his friends so much, the losers are good bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 07:31:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21370456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailing_ShipWreck/pseuds/Sailing_ShipWreck
Summary: The reason Richie couldn’t sleep wasn’t because he wasn’t tired, or because the floor was too hard. It wasn't because he had too much things on his mind, or because he was too excited about something either. Nah, none of these were right. The real reason was that Richie was afraid. He was scared of the moment he would close his eyes, of the moment the darkness would envelop him. Well, that wasn’t quite true: he would’ve preferred the obscurity over what waited for him as soon as his eyelids would shut down. He would’ve preferred being engulfed by the black nothingness of sleep rather than having those dreams.(Or: Richie have a nightmare and the Losers are here to comfort him)
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, The Losers Club/Richie Tozier
Comments: 17
Kudos: 246





	Drowning On My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyy! Here's a little Richie one-shot because oh god I love him so much! Sorry for the mistakes, my first language is not English and I wrote this at like 3AM so it probably isn't perfect. Feel free to leave a comment, it always makes me smile :D
> 
> Enjoy!!!
> 
> TW: well there's Pennywise, so I guess blood, violence(maybe?), death and horror, but it's all in a dream so... Well anyway, better be safe than sorry. ;)

“Shut up, asshole, I’m trying to sleep!” Eddie said groggily, raising his head from his pillow to glare at Richie in the darkness. The Losers were having sleepovers more often than not since the whole Pennywise incident, and tonight was no exception. They were all scattered on the floor in Bill’s living room, unable to close their eyes for more than three seconds because Richie just wouldn’t stop talking. He kept on rambling about stupid things, and at first, it was nice because they all wanted a distraction, but it didn’t take long before they grew tired of it.

Fortunately, Richie seemed to understand the message this time, and his mouth clicked shut. The Losers welcomed the silence with open arms, and they settled for good, wrapping up in blankets and holding their pillows a little tighter. It didn’t take long before they were all asleep, feeling safe with each other close.

Well, except for Richie. The boy turned in his sleeping bag restlessly, buzzing with energy. He changed position every few minutes, and quite sadly, none of them felt comfortable enough for him to let himself drift off to sleep. But that wasn’t the real reason that kept him from sleeping, and he knew it, even though he tried to ignore it.

The reason Richie couldn’t sleep wasn’t because he wasn’t tired: in fact, he hadn’t slept in a while, and he was really beginning to grow exhausted. Even his teachers had noticed the dark rings under his eyes, and that was saying something since most of them didn’t give a shit about their students. It wasn’t because the floor was too hard either: he already had to sleep on the ground before and it never stopped him. It wasn’t because he had too many things on his mind, or because he was too excited about something.

Nah, none of these were right. The real reason was that Richie was afraid. He was scared of the moment he would close his eyes, of the moment the darkness would envelop him. Well, that wasn’t quite true: he would’ve preferred the obscurity over what waited for him as soon as his eyelids would shut down. He would’ve preferred being engulfed by the black nothingness of sleep rather than having those dreams.

He would close his eyes, and images would immediately assault his mind. Then, if he was finally able to fall asleep, the dreams would take the relay. Richie knew it wasn’t the reality, that it couldn’t hurt him, but it _felt_ so real, that he had to convince himself that it didn’t really happen.

He wanted to talk about it to his friends: after all, they had lived the same experience, to different degrees yes, but it was shared trauma nonetheless. He knew for a fact that the Losers all had nightmares, just like him. But there was something keeping him from opening his mouth. For once, some would say, but still, he was unable to admit it out loud: Richie Tozier had nightmares.

He was supposed to be the funny one, not the one bothering everyone with stupid scary dreams about a bitch ass clown. He was supposed to be carefree, to be the comic relief, to lighten the mood with bright smiles and shitty jokes. He didn’t want to be a burden with his problems. Anyway, it didn’t matter if his smiles were fake now, or if his jokes were forced, as long as nobody noticed. If he could still bring some comfort to his friends one way or another, it was fine. Nobody needed to know that _he_ wasn’t perfectly fine.

He had a role to keep, and Richie would play along for as long as he deemed it necessary. He would continue to reassure Stan after he woke up crying, he would continue to talk to distract Eddie from his panic after a flashback, and he would continue to do whatever needed to be done to make the Losers feel better. He would continue to joke and to laugh because they deserved it after all they’d been through. His friends deserved to smile and to be happy, and if he could be the one to cause that, then he wouldn’t come and ruin everything because he couldn’t get the fucking clown out of his head.

After a while, Richie somehow fell asleep, without noticing it. Apparently, days without sleeping could make that happen.

🎈🎈🎈

_Richie opened his eyes to see he was in a dark room. It was kind of small, but he couldn’t really tell since there were absolutely no lights. He wasn’t cuffed or restrained in any way so he stretched his arms to explore the area. He walked around the room, his fingers trailing against the walls. When he reached the fourth one, the texture changed into something smoother. Glass, he figured out. He stepped back into the middle of the room and waited. _

_A light suddenly lit up, illuminating what was beyond the glass. There was another room, perhaps a little bigger than the one he was currently in. His legs collapsed under him and he fell hurtfully on the floor, pulse beating so hard in his ears that he heard nothing else for a moment as he saw Beverly, Mike and Ben sprawled on the floor, their eyes closed. Ben had a bloodstain on his midsection, Mike’s skin looked burned and Beverly’s limbs were twisted in angles that could only mean they were either dislocated or broken. _

_Stanley, Eddie, and Bill were conscious, but strapped on metal chairs. They were badly bruised and Bill’s bottom lip was bleeding, but they otherwise looked physically okay. Stanley and Eddie were clearly terrified, tears running down their cheeks and whole body trembling. Bill was trying to keep a calm facade but was failing, his eyes reflecting Richie’s own fear. _

_“Help! Richie, help us, please! Please!” Stanley begged, pulling wildly against his cuffs, making his wrists bleed. Richie’s heart sank, and he tried the best he could to steady his breathing as he got up. _

_“Hold on, I’m here! You’re gonna be okay.” He reassured, knowing way too well that he wouldn’t be able to keep this promise. Bill looked at him straight in the eyes, and his gaze already looked so defeated, like he knew Richie wouldn’t save them this time. Eddie was the opposite, staring at him hopefully, as if he was sure his best friend would find a way to bring them home safely. _

_Richie rushed towards the glass wall, desperately banging into it, even when the skin on his fists ripped. Blood began dripping down his arms, and a sting appeared in his hands, but he never put an end to it. He delivered hit after hit, irrationally wishing it would change something. He no longer had control over his own body, he was unable to stop. He continued knocking until there was no more force in him, until he was numb from the pain. He weakly hit the glass one last time, failing to hold a distressed whimper. _

_“Ah, Richie! This is kind of a catchy situation, isn’t it? What are you doing to do? No doors, no windows, no tools. No way out!” Pennywise’s voice resonated in the room, seemingly coming out of nowhere. _

_“What do you want? Let them go, please! Are they even… alive?” Richie asked dreadfully, not even caring about how messed up he sounded. How weak he sounded. _

_“Oooh, I like this! The famous Trashmouth already begging me. Well, you’ve seen nothing yet! And yeah, they’re still alive, although barely, but not for long unless you make a choice. A great, great choice!” The clown’s voice said with wicked happiness. _

_“What do you want? I can do anything, as long as you let them go.” Richie replied, relieved to learn that they were still alive, even if he knew that it was probably for the worst. _

_“What do I want? That’s kind of a good question. I ask for nothing more than a little fun! Don’t you like having fun, Richie? Oh yes, you do! I do too! You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll cheer, you’ll die!” Pennywise answered, Its voice so joyful that it made Richie feel sick. _

_The Losers were trapped there, and he was helpless. He deserved everything that happened, but not his friends. _

_“Really, do anything you want to me, eat me, whatever, but please just let them go!” His voice finally broke, and tears freely fell from his eyes. _

_“Hmmm, no! That'll be funnier, you’ll see! Finally a good joke for our Trashmouth!” The clown exclaimed, before pausing for a more dramatic effect, and then resumed. “Now, I give you a choice; either you pick one for me to kill, or I eat them all. Pretty easy, yes?” _

_Richie let out a strangled noise as complete panic overwhelmed him. He felt as if the room was shrinking back on him, squeezing him, his heart, his lungs, his brain, until everything was crushed, shattered to pieces. He put his hand over his mouth in complete shock; he was paralyzed to the spot, the horror of the situation holding him in a tightening grip. _

_“Well? What’s your choice, Richie? Your friends are all eager to know! Don’t keep them in suspense, that would be mean of you.” Its voice intervened, hurrying him to take a decision. _

_But Richie couldn’t do that. He couldn’t choose. He loved all of them. Stan had been the first one to care about him. Ben was the sweetest person he ever met, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like every single second they passed together. Bev was his smoking buddy, and he could always tell her what was on his mind without being judged. Bill, perfect Big Bill, was the embodiment itself of loyalty and bravery, Mike was just so kind and oh so understanding, and there was Eddie, who was always there for him, who even after all these years still got riled up about his “your mom’ jokes, and oh God, did Richie loved that. _

_“Tick, tick, tick, tick! My patience is running out. I made this easy for you and yet you take too much time. The choice is now Billy, little Eddie, and the good Stanley or all the others! You pick either the three or the rest. If you don’t, well, you’re going to be the only one to get out of here alive.” Pennywise taunted. _

_Richie knew he should have been better. He should have been able to protect his only friends. They all protected him at a moment or another, and he wasn’t even able to return the favor. _

_Today was his punishment. He had to pick. But he couldn’t bear to lose one of them. Richie couldn’t live without Beverly’s smile, without Eddie’s rambling, Stan’s laugh, Ben’s empathy, Bill’s protective look, Mike’s kindness and all of their support. _

_“I-I can’t… I can’t choose.” He said finally, his voice weak and wavering. _

_“Fine! It isn’t even funny anymore! Say bye-bye.” The clown replied, sounding exasperated. _

_Richie didn’t even have time to say something when the room where the others were began to fill with water. The color drained from his face and his mouth opened in a scream that never came. He choked on his own despair, hyperventilating as a wave of dizziness made him stumble. His heartbeat resonated in his ears, loud and irregular. He steadied himself and started knocking on the glass again. He banged harder, and harder, and he was sure he broke his left hand at some point, but he was fueled by pure determination, even if he knew deep down that it was hopeless. _

_Eddie was yelling at him to save them, his faith in him never disappearing. He was struggling even more than before to get free, his face pale and his eyes almost manic with fright. Stan was repeating his name in an endless plead. Bill was completely still, except for his chest heaving and his hands agitated with tremors. The others were still unconscious, and the water was almost at their noses’ level. _

_“Stop it! Please! STOP IT!!” Richie screeched, loud and ugly sobs rattling his body. He shouted those two words in a loop until his voice was nothing more than a hoarse murmur. _

_“Beep Beep, Richie!” _

_The water was now at Bill’s shoulders level, climbing higher by the second. The ones who weren’t on a chair were all dead now. Eddie had stopped screaming for him and was resignedly wailing. Stan gave him the saddest look he’d ever seen. _

_“This was your fault. You killed us all when you refused to choose. You could have saved us. Why weren’t you willing to sacrifice one life for the rest of us? Why did you take this much time? You could have picked yourself in the first place, after all, It never said it wasn’t a possibility. It should have been you. You could have stopped this.” Bill told him, not even stuttering once, not even sounding angry, only discouraged. _

_The water submerged Stan, Eddie, and Bill. They fought their inevitable fate for a moment, then drowned. Stan’s dead eyes stared at him, hollow and dark and accusatory, the others’ bodies surrounding him. Floating. _

_The clown materialized in the other room, into the water with his friends, and It started eating them. It bit Beverly’s leg off first, and then It devoured a little part of each of them, pure enjoyment written on Its traits. Blood spread at the lightning’s speed. _

_Pennywise’s giggles echoed in the room, distorted and taunting. _

_Richie fell wretchedly on the floor, guilt, sadness, and sorrow flooding him like a tsunami. His harrowing crying held all the pain in the world. He didn’t know how much time he passed there, curled up on himself, while excruciating torment and grief engulfed him. But he knew that he no longer had reasons to get up._

🎈🎈🎈

Richie woke up screaming, tears streaming down his face in hot, steady torrents. Hands were grabbing him, shaking him and there was hushed whispers from behind him and frantic calls of his name from someone in front of him. Everything was dark, and blurry, maybe because of the tears, or maybe because he wasn’t wearing his glasses, or maybe both.

The mess of fuzzy figures merged into a white-painted face with glowing yellow eyes and crimson-tinted lips curling into a sickening smile in front of Richie’s terrified gaze, and he backed away from those prying fingers in a state of mind-numbing panic. He didn’t know what was real anymore.

Knees weak and wobbling, he shot up to his feet and rushed out of Bill’s living room, ran down the hallway and locked himself up in the bathroom. He turned his back on the closed door, and let himself slid down to the floor, heart beating so hard that he was worried it would burst out of his chest. He buried his face in his trembling hands, and he tried to calm himself down. He took a deep breath, hold it in his lungs for a moment, but it wasn’t working. He coughed, choking on air and on his own tears.

He heard someone hit on the door repeatedly, and Stan calling his name, but it only brought him back into the horrors his mind created under the form of nightmares.

_Stan’s lifeless and vacant eyes staring at him, seeing through his soul._

“O-open the d-d-door, R-Richie, God-dam-m-mit!” Bill said, struggling with the words a little bit more than usual. Richie heard the doorknob rattle violently, and he knew without a doubt that one of the Losers, Eddie if he had to guess, was trying to force it open.

_ Bev, Ben and Mike’s corpses floating in the water, because of him._

He put his hands on his ears, trying desperately to block the sounds, and he squeezed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to chase the memories of his dream.

_Bill’s accusations, how he had been right to say it was Richie’s fault._

He got away from the door when the banging got louder, and he walked to the opposite side of the room. He sat in the bathtub and wished he could drown his thoughts. He pressed himself on the wall, and the coldness sent shivers down his spine.

_ Eddie’s hopeful face transforming to one of disappointment and resignation._

He tugged on his hair, and then the door slammed open. He startled, a loud gasp escaping his mouth. Six blurry human shapes stepped into the bathroom and rushed over to him. He flinched when hands set down on his shoulders.

_ The clear water turning red, death everywhere around him._

“It’s okay, it’s me, I’ve got you,” Stan reassured, and that’s all it took for Richie to let himself break. He leaned heavily into the touch, body shaken up by loud sobs, as Stan pulled him in into a warm and comforting hug.

Eddie took his hand and squeezed it gently to signal his presence, and then joined the embrace. The Losers all followed, until they were just a big mess of tangled limbs. They stayed huddled together for a while, easing Richie’s panic. The contact grounded Richie, reminded him that his friends were all safe, and breathing, and alive. He could have stayed like that forever.

Then, Stan sneezed.

Eddie pulled away so fast that he stumbled into the wall, an expression of disgust painted on his face.

“Ewww Stan that’s so disgusting, do you know how many bacterias you just sprayed all over--” Eddie began, before getting interrupted by a tearful giggle. Richie’s giggle morphed into a heartfelt chuckle and then into a genuine, full-blown laugh. The Losers all looked at each other, surprised, and then burst out into uncontrollable laughter as well.

The hilarity won over the heavy atmosphere and they laughed, unable to stop themselves, until they were out of breath and their sides were hurting. Every time the chuckles died down, they would look at each other and their semblance of seriousness would be lost into their renewed amusement.

“It’s not my fault I’m allergic to Richie!” Stan exclaimed as he tried to sober up to take in a proper breath, but failed quite spectacularly.

“Stan the man, I am wounded!”

They roared with laughter again, until literal tears were spilling out from their eyes. They all looked like they had completely lost their mind, but hey, it was like 3 in the morning and they needed that to loosen up the tension and worry still lingering in the air.

“Shhh, y-you’ll w-w-wake my p-parents!” Bill shushed, hands gesturing up and down in a motion of lowering the volume, but it just made it even harder to contain their laughs.

After a moment or two, they finally succeeded to calm down and all the eyes turned to look at Richie simultaneously, expressions of concern back in place. Richie shrank on himself as he felt the weight of their stares, and he shifted uncomfortably. Eddie seemed to remark his sudden uneasiness, and took his hand again in a supportive manner.

“Rich,” Beverly began, then paused as she searched for the right thing to say. “Why didn’t you tell us you had nightmares?”

Richie stayed silent, not really wanting to tell the real reason but not wanting to lie either.

“You can tell us everything,” Mike added.

“I have them too,” Ben revealed, looking down at the floor. They already knew, but Richie did feel better after hearing someone else confess first.

“I didn’t tell you guys because… because I didn’t want to be a burden. I’m supposed to be funny and--” Richie said awkwardly, looking shy for the first time in his life, but he got cut off by multiple exclamation of indignation and shock.

“W-what t-the hell?”

“Richie!”

“You’re not a burden!”

“How could you even think something like that?”

“And if I can’t even be that, what am I useful for?” Richie resumed.

“Say that again and I’ll fucking kick your ass!” Eddie punctuated his sentence with a soft slap behind Richie’s head, but of course, Richie exaggerated everything.

“OW EDS WHAT THE FUCK?” He yelled, smile wide, until Bill clasped a hand over his mouth.

“Shhhhhhh,” He said again, grinning as well.

Suddenly, Stan pulled Richie up and led him back into the living room. He walked over to the TV, and Richie looked at him questioningly.

“I figured out you wouldn’t feel like sleeping,” Stan shrugged, putting on a random movie.

_God bless Stanley Uris_, Richie thought, relieved. He would never have asked the Losers to stay awake for him, nor would he have admitted being too scared to go back to sleep, but Stan knew him too well, and Richie was eternally grateful for that They all settled on the couch, close to each other in a big ball of comfort and warmness. As Richie thought about it, he realized that there was at least one advantage to the whole psychotic murder clown mess: the Losers all met each other, and they created the strongest friendship that ever existed, and there was nothing that Richie was more certain about.

“Thank you,” He murmured in Stan’s ear, and they glanced at each other, soft smiles plastered on their faces.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, and seriously, do not hesitate to leave a comment. You can't even imagine how much it makes me happy! It can just be random letters, or a sound or just an emotion, and it's perfect like this. No need to write an essay XD 
> 
> Thanks for reading, love you all ❤️


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